Hot Property

by Susanne O’Leary

  Beata put the ring on her little finger. “Too small for me. You have tiny fingers.”

  “Strange how it fits me.”

  Beata handed back the ring. “Isn’t there a special way to wear it?”

  Megan slipped the ring back on her finger, where it felt as if it belonged. “Yes. Traditionally, if the owner of the ring wears it with the crown pointing towards the fingernail, he or she is said to be in love or married. To wear the ring with the heart pointing to the fingernail, he or she is said to be unattached to anyone.”

  Beata glanced at Megan’s hand. “It says you’re unattached. But I thought—”

  Megan shrugged. “I don’t want anyone getting ideas.”

  ***

  “It was a parcel with an old necklace and the O’Farrell Claddagh ring,” Megan told Paudie later that night when he phoned. “It was in a leather pouch marked with the letter M in gold. That would be Molly, I suppose.”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s probably one of the O’Farrell women. They were all called either Mary, Maureen or a derivative of Mary. I think there were one or two Margarets too.”

  “I see. I wonder when Molly hid this, though.”

  “Why don’t you look at the date on the newspaper it was wrapped in?”

  “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because you’re not as clever as me,” Paudie said. “When are you coming over?”

  “Tomorrow evening. I have to be here when the plumber arrives, and then I’ll go over to Beata’s. I’ll come back here to check on their progress later and get my stuff. Then I’ll be at your place around seven. That okay?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “I have a date with Dan later, so I’ll be out all night.”

  “Fine.”

  “How’s Denis?” Megan asked.

  But Paudie had hung up.

  ***

  The date on the old newspaper the parcel was wrapped in was difficult to make out. But the year said 1940. Dad would have been two, Megan thought. Maybe around the time Molly found out about his existence… Maybe that’s why she hid the jewellery.

  She didn’t have time to think about it, however, as she had a busy day ahead of her. She hid the box with the necklace under the old bellows. The ring would stay on her finger for good. It felt like hers, as if her female ancestors, all the way from eighteenth-century Galway, wanted her to wear it.

  When her phone rang, she thought it would be Beata or Dan, but a female voice asked if this was Megan O’Farrell.

  “Yes, I’m Megan. How can I help you?”

  “This is Maria Slattery from Social Welfare.”

  “Oh. Hello.”

  “I’m calling to enquire if it’s true that you’re working part time at a B and B called The Blue Door?”

  Megan swallowed. How on earth had they found out? Beata paid her in cash, and she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone when she went to collect her unemployment benefit. “Uh…”

  “If this is true, I’m calling to give you a warning. You can’t work anywhere, either full-time or part-time while drawing unemployment payments. This is a serious offense you know.”

  “But… the dole money is puny,” Megan protested. “How could anyone be expected to live on that?”

  “That’s beside the point,” The woman snapped. “I could report you, and then you’d have to go to court.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential.”

  Megan gritted her teeth. “So, someone squealed on me, is that it?”

  “Let’s say it was a hint.” Maria Slattery’s tone softened. “Not a very nice thing to do, I agree. But there you are, people aren’t nice. Tralee is a small town and people talk.”

  “I don’t live in Tralee,” Megan argued.

  “No, but you live in the catchment area. Everyone comes into Tralee to go to the bank and shop and things like that.”

  “I see. So, what am I going to do?”

  “Stop drawing unemployment,” Mary Slattery said. “Or quit your part-time job. The choice is up to you. I won’t report you if you sort this out at once.” There was a click as she hung up.

  Megan stood there by the window, staring blindly at the view. Who could have reported her? Everyone knew she worked at The Blue Door, but very few knew about her drawing the dole. Maybe someone had spotted her going into the Social Welfare office? Oh shit! I’m just going to stop drawing the dole. It’s a pittance anyway.

  A thought struck Megan. Maybe it was a hoax? Only one way to find out. She looked up the Social Welfare office on her smartphone and dialled the number. “Is there a Maria Slattery in your office?” she asked when the receptionist replied.

  “Yes. Do you want to speak to her?”

  Megan hesitated. “Yes please.”

  “Just a moment and I’ll connect you. She might be out, but then you can leave a message on her voicemail.”

  There was a click and a brief silence. Then a woman’s voice Megan recognised: “This is Maria Slattery. I’m away from my desk but please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Megan hung up. It was no hoax. Someone had told on her.

  By now used to the sound of farm machinery, the rumble of a tractor barely registered as Megan tidied up. The plumbers were due to arrive any minute, so she had to make sure the kitchen was tidy and there were no obstacles for the work ahead.

  The rumble hadn’t registered. But the smell did. Foul. Stinking. Choking. Not again. I must try to get used to it or it will drive me insane, Megan told herself. But this time the stench was so strong, it felt as if the slurry had been sprayed directly into the house. Holding her breath, Megan went outside. A tractor with a slurry tank was just pulling out from the field beside the house. The field where the foals were to go was no longer green.

  “Hey!” Megan shouted and waved at the tractor. “Stop! Who told you to—” But the tractor drove down the road without stopping.

  ***

  “Oh, no,” Diana moaned from the driver’s seat of her jeep. “I can’t unload the horses now. This’ll take over a week to be fit for grazing.”

  “Thought so,” Megan said. “I was going to call you but didn’t have your number.”

  “Who did this?”

  “The contractor down the road. Said he had orders from Paudie. But when I spoke to him, he said no. He didn’t tell anyone to spray the fields, as he knew you were coming to put your horses here.”

  Diana’s eyes narrowed. “We have to get to the bottom of this. It must have been malicious. Is someone trying to get you to sell?”

  Megan sighed. “Just about everyone. Beata thinks I’m nuts. Dan thinks I should sell and buy a smaller place. The Quinn brothers are leaning on me, saying they’ll make me an offer. Paudie—” She thought for a moment. “Actually, he hasn’t said anything at all. He’s the only one who leaves me alone.”

  “Very restful person, really, isn’t he?” Diana looked at Megan’s hand. “Oh! You found it. The ring. Let me have a look.”

  Megan took off the ring. “Yes. They found it when they dug the hole for the new septic tank. It was so dirty, I didn’t know what it was at first. I found the necklace too. It’s beautiful.”

  Diana studied the ring. “Gorgeous. A bit rough but that’s because it’s so old. Here, put it back on. But are you sure you should be wearing it all the time like this? I mean, is it safe?”

  Megan put the ring back on her finger. “I don’t care. It feels as if I’ve worn it always. I feel naked without it.”

  Diana glanced at it. “But you’re not wearing it the right way. If you’re attached…”

  “I’m not. Well, as you know I’m seeing someone but I don’t feel ‘attached’ to him. Yet.”

  Diana nodded. “Quite right. Take it slowly, and make sure it’s the real thing. The ring is beautiful. Maybe it’ll bring you luck.” She started the engine of the jeep. “Okay, I’ll take these horses
back home. We can have a look again in a couple of days. Pity. The grass is so sweet here.”

  There was thumping sound from the horsebox attached to the jeep. “Please,” Megan said. “Can I see the foal?”

  Diana switched off the engine. “Okay, why not? Open the front door of the box and you can have a peek. But be careful. That mare nips a bit.”

  Megan walked to the horsebox and carefully opened the little door at the front. The grey mare pushed her muzzle toward Megan’s outstretched hand and let out a small snort. Beside her, the black foal looked on with wide eyes. “Hello,” Megan whispered, touching the silky coat. The foal sniffed at her hand, then hid behind his mother. The mare looked back at him, then gave Megan’s hand a little shove, as if to say ‘enough peeking’. Megan breathed in the smell of hay and horse and withdrew her head. She closed the door with a little sigh of regret. “Thanks,” she said to Diana, standing beside her. “They’re beautiful.”

  Diana put the catch back on the door. “Hard work but worth it. When you breed a winner, it’s better than winning a million euros in the lotto. But that doesn’t happen very often, of course. It’s the beef cattle that make our living. These beautiful creatures are less of a certainty. But horses are my first love. Don’t make me much money. We just about break even, but what a bore life would be without them.” She shook herself. “Enough blathering. Got to go. Don’t worry about this. It’ll be okay in a couple of days. Especially if it rains. You can always be sure it will here.”

  “That’s true.”

  A blue van with a plumber’s logo on the side drove up and pulled in behind Diana. The driver leaned his head out the window. “Morning! Can we drive in through the gate and park at the back door? Easier to get the material in that way. If that jeep and horsebox aren’t going to stay, that is.”

  “Of course,” Megan replied. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Thanks.” The driver wrinkled his nose. “Holy Mary, the slurry’s bad today. What did they use? Extra strength?”

  “Yeah.” Megan sighed. “They nuked it.”

  “I’d better get going. See you soon, love.” Diana waved and expertly backed the jeep and horsebox into the road and drove off.

  The van pulled in through the gate. Megan got ready for her day at The Blue Door as the plumbers didn’t waste any time ripping out pipes and boring holes in the walls.

  She left the smell and noise behind her and drove down the road towards Castlegregory, her mind on all that had happened during the morning. Who is it? Who is doing their best to get me to leave?”

  ***

  “Who could have reported me?” Megan asked Beata the next morning. “Only Dan and Paudie know about me collecting dole. And neither of them would have told on me.”

  Beata shrugged. “Who knows? My bet is on the Quinn brothers. They might have seen you. Or one of their friends or something.”

  Megan stuffed a sheet into the washing machine. “I think you’re right. And then the slurry yesterday. That was done maliciously. A ploy to make me sell the house.”

  “Of course. Houses around here are like gold dust these days. And yours is a gem. There isn’t a square foot available for rent during the summer months here. If you don’t sell, you could make a lot of money renting out your place in July and August next year.”

  Megan looked at Beata. “Yes. That’s true. I might consider that. If I find somewhere to stay during those months. Or I could always go to Dublin and stay with my mother for a few weeks at least.”

  “If you can bear it.”

  ***

  She hadn’t come to any conclusion by the end of that day. Having packed a bag with enough clothes for a few days, she drove to Paudie’s house, still trying to figure out who was trying to drive her out.

  She forgot all about it when she got out of the car. The haunting sound of a melody being played on a flute hung in the still air. Paudie sat on the stone wall of the little back garden, playing his tin whistle, lost to the world around him.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so still, so complete, somehow. Denis, his leg bandaged, lay at his master’s feet. The mountains rising above the fields, against the sky tinged with pink, made the perfect backdrop.

  Megan stood, listening to the music, taking in the scene. She didn’t want to move or talk, didn’t want this moment to end.

  Paudie stopped playing and lifted his face to the sky. Then Megan saw his tears.

  Chapter 11

  Megan inched back to her car, got in and gently closed the door. After waiting a few minutes, she opened the door again and shouted, “Hello!”

  Paudie ran his hand over his face. Smiling at Megan, he jumped off the wall. “Hi there. Are you here already? I sat here, fiddling around with some music.”

  “I didn’t know you played the tin whistle.”

  He looked at the little metal flute in his hand. “Yeah. Learned to play when I was about seven. My mother taught me. She was very much into Irish music. She had a lovely voice.”

  “Maybe you’ll play me a tune sometime?”

  He put the tin whistle in his pocket. “Maybe. But not that one.”

  “It reminded you of your mother?” Megan asked as gently as she could.

  Paudie nodded. “Yes. Funny how it always brings me back to her. She died when I was twenty. Long time ago now, but…”

  Megan took his hand. “I know. I lost my dad a few years ago. I’ll never stop missing him. Were you close to your mother?”

  “Yes.” He straightened his shoulders, as if to rid himself of sad thoughts. “You have to turn your mind away when you get into that kind of mood. So we won’t talk about it anymore.” He took her bag. “I put some sheets in the spare room behind the kitchen. It’s nice and warm from the stove and very quiet.”

  “Great.” She patted Denis. “How is he? I see he isn’t putting that paw down at all.”

  “No, he’s a little bit sore. The vet stitched the wound and gave him antibiotics. He’ll be all right in a few days. But go on, you’ll be late. Is Nolan picking you up?”

  Megan picked up her pace. “Yes. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

  The room was small, bare and clean. The wrought-iron bed had a thick mattress covered with a quilt of many colours. The rest of the furniture consisted of an old chest of drawers with brass knobs, a chair and hooks on the wall for hanging clothes. The window overlooked the little garden at the back. Megan took the sheets and made the bed. She grabbed the towel hanging on the wall and tiptoed to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she padded back to her room to get ready for the evening with Dan.

  When she came into the kitchen, she found Paudie at the table with a laptop. He looked up. “All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I see. Not quite the outfit for an evening on the town, though.”

  Megan glanced down at her jeans and runners. “We’re going to the beach. There’ll be some big waves at the back beach this evening, they said. With good wind for windsurfing and kite surfing too. So there’s a lot going on.”

  “And you’ll be watching the show?”

  “Yes. And then we’ll have a picnic with the others. It’s great fun. People from all over Europe are here this weekend.” She glanced at his computer. “What are you doing? Another kind of surfing?”

  He looked at the screen. “No. I’m doing my accounts and looking up The Irish Field. I’m not into that Facebook stuff. But I’m sure you have a large following.”

  Megan shrugged. “Used to. I’ve kind of forgotten about the Internet since I came here. Haven’t even switched on my laptop. It’s as if it would break the spell.”

  He looked up at her. “The spell?”

  “Yes. We seem so far away from all that stuff here. The Internet. Twitter. Facebook. Doesn’t seem important or relevant. I don’t even watch TV. I listen to the news on my little radio, but sometimes I even forget to do that. The world outside Dingle doesn’t seem to matter much.”

  Paudie smiled and shook his he
ad. “You’re turning into a real Kerrywoman. But when winter comes, you’ll change your mind. The winter storms will force you indoors. Then you’ll have to think of some way to amuse yourself.”

  “Maybe.” She sat down at the table and propped her chin in her hands. “But then I could take up weaving or knitting Aran sweaters. Those traditional Irish knits are very popular all over the world. I might even sell them on eBay. Or I might just get stuck into the books I’ve been promising myself to read.”

  “That should keep you busy.” He cocked his head “Is that Nolan’s car outside?”

  Megan didn’t stir. “Probably. I’ll be off in a minute.”

  “Letting him wait, are we?” Paudie winked. “Not letting him think you’re that eager?”

  Megan laughed. “Yeah, why not? ‘Treat ‘em like shit,’ Beata says. Not you,” she added, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re my friend.”

  He put his hand on hers. “And you’re mine, Meg. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  The door opened. They looked up as Dan entered, a gush of cold air blowing in behind him.

  There was a long silence. Then, without getting up or letting go of Megan’s hand, Paudie spoke. “Evening, Mr Nolan, sir. What brings you to my humble abode?”

  Ignoring Paudie, Dan looked at Megan. “Are you ready? We have to get going. The surf’s up and everyone’s waiting.”

  The tension was palpable in the kitchen. Megan could see Paudie’s jaw tightening. She got up. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  Dan took a step back. “Okay. Let’s go, then. Come on.”

  “Ordering the lady around, Mr Nolan?” Paudie’s voice was as smooth as silk. “I don’t think she takes to being bossed.”

  “Is that any of your business, Paudie O’Shea?”

  Confused by the hostility, Megan looked from one the other. What was going on? With a feeling a fight was in the air, she got up, grabbed her sweater from a chair and walked to the door. She took Dan’s arm. “Come on, we’re late.”